Philosophy of life: "Always give love because there are others who have it much harder than you."

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I grew up in a poor home, but we were surrounded with love. I remember Mamma standing in front of the stove and cooking a soup bone for the second time. She'd lift the lid, take a deep breath and say, "That soup smells so-o-o good." We'd enjoy it just as much the second time. She was a very wise woman.

A big part of our family life involved going to church. One Sunday morning Brother Shelly, the Sunday school superintendent, announced to the children that there would be a special treat the following Sunday. He then asked the adults to help him keep his promise to the children. He wanted a member of the congregation to volunteer to sing a song next Sunday.

During the week Pappa and Mamma twitted each other about being the soloist. We kids knew Pappa wouldn't be the soloist as he couldn't sing. He had strained his vocal chords in his youth helping to lift a farm wagon out of the mire. Neither could Mamma carry a tune; she was never at the right place at the right time in a song.

When the time came for the special program, Brother Shelly first asked for a sister to sing, and with no fuss, one of the ladies responded. Then he asked for one of the brethren to volunteer. No one moved.

Suddenly, to my mother's consternation, Pappa rose, walked to the front of the altar and said, "Brother Shelly promised the children something extra today. I believe a promise to children should be kept. I have no voice, but from my heart I will sing."

In a husky voice he began to sing the beautiful old German hymn "Gottes Liebe, Oh Wie Gross" (Oh How Great is God's Love) As he came to the last verse, he raised his hand, and with tears trickling down his cheeks, he sang those lovely, lovely words.

Five weeks later, at 40 years of age, he went to be with the Lord. It was a very cold Saturday morning in February 1916 when he died of walking typhoid. I was 9 years old at the time. Now there were only six of us: Mamma, Grandpa who was blind, my brother, my older sister, my twin sister and me.

It was devastating to lose our father, the head of the house. Mamma knew she had lost the one who sustained her with his love and also the one who supported the family. Pappa had no insurance as the church did not wholly approve of it, nor was it a requisite in a family budget then, as it is today. We had nothing.

Sunday afternoon the pastor, his wife and Brother and Sister Kratz came to extend their sympathy. They visited for a short time, had prayer with us, and as they were preparing to leave, Sister Kratz drew Mamma aside and handed her an envelope.

Enclosed was $10. . She held Mamma's hand and said, "This is money my father sent me to buy a new winter coat. After talking with Pappa, we decided I could wear my old coat another winter. You and the children have need of the money now."

Through the years, I have given many gifts. Some generous, others not. My most generous gifts, when weighed, have not balanced with the gift Sister Kratz gave us that bleak Sunday afternoon.

As I said, God blessed me in many ways, with loving friends and with a wonderful family. When I was 35, I married a widower who had three children. When I went to the cemetery to visit with his wife, I would weep because she didn't have the privilege to raise her children. I can't find words to tell you how much I love them. You don't have to bear a child to love it.